The Pitiless Pit
by Aletta-Feather
Summary: Set after season 7, episode 6. At the armistice, Cersei yet again means to get rid of her enemies. Jaime secretly plots against her. Tyrion too has some decisions to make.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Story begins after season 7, episode 6. One (small) change is that Cersei's pregnancy is already near the end - last trimester. Another is that Podrick stayed at Winterfell.

* * *

 **The Pitiless Pit**

Jaime nearly stopped breathing the moment he saw Brienne's large silhouette come into view. Why had she come? She should have stayed away, far, far away. All the envoys that had been gathered were guests in the Red Keep. There'd be a banquet first and then a large parley. He didn't approach her immediately so as not to rise Cersei's suspicions. When he finally did speak to her, near the plateau with assorted cheeses, he made sure to be brief.

"I'd expected a Stark to represent the North," he said. "Not you." She looked up with surprise and a smile appeared on her face. "Ser Jaime," she said, "so good to see you too. As to your question: Lady Sansa sent me in her stead," Brienne replied, and as she spotted Cersei who was heavy with child, she continued, "I understand I'm to congratulate you." She did not seem too surprised, Jaime thought, so she must have already heard. He looked away, slightly abashed. "I had not imagined becoming a father again," he replied softly.

"I don't doubt you'll be a good one," Brienne said. His eyes lit up. "Thank you," he said, but then a grim look overtook his face.

"Now, I do need a word." He grabbed her arm a little more forcefully than he'd intended. Her eyes narrowed and her hand went to the hilt of her sword – his former sword – in a reflex. Jaime let her go, making a consolatory gesture with his hands, the gilded and the flesh and bone acting in unison.

"Tonight you should remain near the entrance," he said with a low voice, and when she shot him a puzzled look, he continued, smirking: "Just pretend you're stand-offish. That shouldn't be too hard for you. Say it's customary to your people."

Brienne rose an eyebrow. "Islanders?" she said, "or Northerners?"

"Islanders, Northerners, whatever you wish," he replied. "Just heed my words, will you. For once."

Brienne bit her lip, taken aback, but nodded. "Good," Jaime said and left her to greet another of the guests. All he could do now was hope.

* * *

The dinner had been good, Brienne reflected. She had briefly spoken to Jaime's brother who hadn't left his Queen's side and seemed to be determined to avoid his sister. Cersei had spoken to her too. She had been all smiles but had pointed out being pregnant a bit too often for Brienne's taste. Now the food had gone, the wine had been spent and the parley would begin. The great Dragon Pit of old was where negotiations would take place. The Dragon Queen's dragons flew in the air above the great ruin. As the roof had collapsed, they were in sight at all times. Brienne did not see how Cersei could have planned anything. Not with those dreadful beasts so near at hand.

Still, she kept her word and lingered near the entrance. Whenever asked, she said she was fine just where she was, thank you very much. After a while, the official proceedings began, and Brienne was worried she might be called forward. The North would not be the first to be called upon though. As she saw Daenerys Stormborn and Tyrion approach Cersei and her ever present Mountain, she began to feel at unease. Brienne looked around. Jaime wasn't here, she noticed with a jolt. He had been present a mere moment ago. As her eyes overviewed the room, the one they called the spider stood next to her. He'd appeared out of thin air. "A raven from Winterfell, my lady," he whispered in her ear. "I'm afraid it cannot wait."

"I have to stay. I'm meant to represent…" she protested, but he took her hand and said in an even softer whisper: "Your mount is ready and saddled."

Brienne was too shocked to reply. As she left the Dragon Pit, she saw her horse. Ser Jaime held the reins whilst seated on his own fierce war mount. "Come," he said. "We mustn't delay."

Brienne did as he bid her and soon they were on their way. He didn't' speak until they found themselves on a crossroad just outside of the citadel. "Here I must leave you," he said.  
"Where will you go? What is happening?" she said, panic creeping into her voice. "Tell me!"

"You will hear soon enough, Brienne," he said, smiling sadly. "I'm to join my forces. Hopefully they will protect me from her wrath. Though Sansa not being present already thwarted her plans."

"What plans?" Brienne called after him, but Jaime did not reply.

* * *

"The dragons will be our main concern," Cersei had told him, when she was making said plans. "Other than that, we should be fine. Qyburn is our man." She had smiled, put a hand on her belly, and began to hum The Rains of Castamere. And now he had let Brienne escape, Jaime thought. Cersei had told him not to betray her again, yet here he was. It was not his only betrayal either. He had told Bronn to leave so she could not punish him and he'd gotten the spider to help in keeping Tyrion safe. He had betrayed her a thousand times over, Jaime pondered. She would not forgive. Their child might not live. "I had to do it," he muttered to himself. "I couldn't let her do this, not to Tyrion, and Brienne. Not again."

Cersei was far too fond of wildfire. Like the king he had killed. Jaime had begun to suspect she hated Tyrion more than she loved him, Jaime. She wanted their brother dead so badly; it still shocked him, even though it shouldn't. Tyrion is family, he thought. Though he had killed father and had joined another Queen. Jaime was angry with him too, but killing his own kin? He would never steep as low as that. Perhaps he would have, had he'd gotten his hands on him the night father died. Or the week after, mayhaps. But not now, not anymore.

He would be safe for the moment at least. There was nothing more he could do for Tyrion. Jaime would be with his own, the soldiers who fought and died for him, for his house. Should they turn against him in favor of his sister, he would be lost. He spurred on his horse and rode towards the camp.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Varys had come to him in the middle of the night and had urged him to wake up. "You'd best have a very good reason to disturb my sleep," Tyrion had grunted. Varys had giggled. "Surely I have not yet led you astray," he'd replied.

Tyrion had begrudgingly agreed. "Your brother paid me a visit," Varys had told him. That had truly woken him up. "He has?! Jaime?" It had filled his heart with pride and made him bolder as well. "What did he have to say?"

"Your sister seems to fancy herself to be your father's true heir. After the Sept of Baelor, she intends to make a similar move, this time at the Dragon Pit."

"And Jaime told you?" Tyrion could scarcely believe it.

"I still have my uses," Varys smirked. "He wishes to see certain individuals safe should they be present, you being one of them."

"I can't think who else," Tyrion muttered. "Surely most will be his enemies, or will become so regardless."

Varys giggled again with that soft voice of his. "There's this… woman he seems desperate to protect." When Tyrion did not respond, he said: "She seems to possess giant's blood?"

"Brienne of Tarth," Tyrion sighed, shaking his head. "I will never understand his taste in women."

"She does seem quite a far cry from your sister," Varys agreed, and continued, "though in reflection that might be the point."

Tyrion bit his lip. "It might," he said. "His imprisonment changed him. I'm sure father's death did too."

"There's also the loss of the children," Varys said. "No one would call him care-free anymore, whatever his rank or station."

Tyrion frowned. "Precisely so. A man with nothing to lose can be quite dangerous. When he tried to attack Drogon, my heart dropped. The sheer madness of it! Using his mind is not his strong suit…"

Varys wisely said nothing at all.

"You're to make sure Cersei does not leave the Pit by the staircase. The old one, where they used to let the prisoners in..? She's planning on escaping herself, and letting all the rest of you crumble to pieces."

Tyrion nodded. "Understood. Loud and clear. What about Jaime or Brienne?"

"Jaime will leave himself and wants to take her with him, if she's there. Only her stubbornness may be an obstacle. Personally, I don't think the Northerners will respond to Cersei's summons," he said in a whispering voice. "After all, they don't take to the South very well. "

"Not a fail proof plan, I hear," Tyrion growled. "What has she planned? My dear sister, I mean?"  
"Pray you will never know," Varys replied dramatically. "He hasn't informed me of such. These were my instructions, nothing more. Though I do believe Qyburn plays a role of some significance."

"Surely not wildfire again?" Tyrion wondered. "Though it is her favorite plaything, it would seem."

"I wouldn't know," Varys repeated. "Just make sure she doesn't run. She won't be able to execute the plan and you should be safe."

Some consolation, Tyrion thought as Varys left, and he lay once again down on his feather bed. "We should be quite safe," he muttered. "Then why do I feel such apprehension?" Wine was the only solution to such thoughts. He crawled out of his bed in search of a decent vintage.

* * *

Tyrion stood in the Dragon Pit. He had hidden a small sharp knife beneath the folds of his tunic. His Queen and his sister were talking. It seemed amiable but he knew better. Neither of them was prepared to give in. He looked up at the dragons. They should protect them, though there were only two of them left. Daenerys had become fiercely protective of them. She had begun to fear the scorpion too, now that one of her children had fallen. The Mountain lingered near Cersei the entire time, as did Euron Greyjoy. Apparently he'd set his eyes on Cersei, even though she was carrying Jaime's child. Tyrion wondered if perhaps Euron could be the father. Cersei had never been that faithful, though he suspected Jaime had.

Qyburn was nowhere to be seen. Tyrion thought this especially troubling. Where was the former maester? As he looked around him, he noticed that Jaime had gone. Jaime and Varys and Brienne. It wouldn't be long now, he thought, but how can I ever reach Cersei with the Mountain so nearby? When he saw his sister slowly making for the staircase as Daenerys went towards Jon, Tyrion felt an urge of bravery. Or perhaps it was desperation. Desperate courage. He ran as fast as his wobbly legs carried him, reaching for his knife.

He had almost reached her, almost, when a large hand grabbed him by his tunic, and he was thrown a few feet away, into the stands. The Mountain had gotten to him. As he was flying through the air, Tyrion aimed his knife, but it missed, hitting an unsuspecting Tormund in the leg. The red-bearded man looked up, disturbed, while searching for his attacker. "I'm sorry," Tyrion mumbled, before he crashed into the stands, and lay there, with a broken body. Just before he faded away, he noticed a greenish hue and it seemed as if the earth vanished beneath him. "A sinkhole. A true pit," he thought, just before the darkness took him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Daenerys had looked up at Tyrion suddenly running towards his sister. She saw her Hand tossed into the air like a weightless doll. "Tyrion," she shouted, and then she turned her focus to Cersei again. She was descending down a staircase with a vicious smile on her lips. "Drogon," she shouted. "Drogon, I need you! Now!" Both Drogon and Rhaegar flew towards her. As Daenerys tried to get on Drogon's back, a greenish gas filled the Dragon Pit. She saw the Hound hit the floor first, then Tormund who was near the staircase where the source was. She coughed and her eyes stung. With her guidance Drogon located Tyrion and then Jon Snow. But as she reached him, she feared it would be too late. His eyes had a green hue to him and he could hardly breathe. With great effort she lay both Tyrion and Jon across Drogon's back and told him to fly, fly far away. Away from this place.

As Drogon took to the air, Dany noticed Rhaegar was behind them. Soon she realized that Rhaegar was dwindling. She urged Drogon to fly back to his brother, and as they approached him, Rhaegar too had been affected. His wings were weak and his pace declined. He lost height and crashed in a field of grain. Drogon landed next to him, shrieking in agony over another lost sibling. "Rhaegar, Rhaegar, please don't die," Dany whispered. "Please, Rhaegar, you can't die!" But her dragon could no longer breathe and he sank even more onto the ground. Her second child had been slain. A great hill of green scales slain in a field of gold.

Daenerys cried, loudly at first, but later it turned into a soft sobbing. She turned to look at Jon again and saw that he had died as well. Tyrion, on the other hand, had woken up and began to cough loudly. "Tyrion," she said. "You're still here…. It was dreadful, dreadful! What was it? What did she do?"

"Where are we?" Tyrion said.

"I don't know," Dany hissed at him. "Rhaegar is dead. Jon is gone too… Almost everyone is. You and me and…." She covered her mouth in shock. "Your sister is alive. She and that maester of hers, I bet and that freakish creature that threw you through the air."

"The Mountain," Tyrion croaked. "Clegane."

"His brother is gone too. Everyone that was there is gone, everyone except us."

"Not just us," Tyrion said. "Jaime is alive. Jaime, and Brienne and Varys. And also…" he coughed again. "Sansa. Sansa is still up North."

"With her brother gone, she will be in charge," Dany said. "We need to take him to her. We need to go up North."

"I agree." Tyrion said. "We do."

"Should we return to Dragonstone first?" Daenerys had left Missandei in charge, in case the worst should happen.

"Better not," Tyrion advised. "We can send a raven from Winterfell."

"What about Rhaegar?" she whimpered. "We can't leave him here…."

"We must," Tyrion urged her.

"I won't have her know my Rhaegar is gone," she hissed. "We shall burn him."

She made sure they were all at a safe distance before she gave the command. "Dracarys," she said to Drogon, with a trembling voice. Drogon hesitated a moment, but then he set his sibling on fire.

It was the greatest funeral pyre ever witnessed by mankind.

* * *

First Jaime had spotted the two dragons in the sky. He couldn't see if there were survivors on them. "The beasts got away," he muttered as he urged his horse to speed up. "The deed is done." He had tried to get Cersei to change her mind. Something at which he constantly failed. He had even used the baby's health as an argument. "Qyburn knows what he is doing, my dear brother," she had said, as she had cupped his face. "Trust me. Trust him. We will be fine. We will survive and start our very own dynasty." He had laid his hands, both of them, on her belly.

"For her, or his, sake, I hope you are right," he had said. "It sounds very dangerous, Cersei. What if you're not on time?"

"My dearest Jaime," she had said, "Everything is under control. It is. Be assured of that." She had laid her hands on his and had smiled at him. "With all our enemies gone, we will finally be able to start a family of our own. You and me."

How he had longed for that. For years and years on end. Yet now that the moment had finally arrived, Jaime wasn't that pleased about it. He was afraid. He didn't recognize his sister anymore.

* * *

Not long thereafter, another rider noticed a dragon in the sky. Only one. Brienne was distraught. All she knew was that something must have happened. Something dreadful, but Jaime had saved her. I must get to Winterfell as soon as I can, she thought. I must not delay. Sleep in the saddle. Ride day and night. Lady Sansa would know what to do. She would have to. Only the Seven knew what had happened to Jon. To Jon and Tormund and all the others….

Brienne suddenly screamed in frustration. She needed to know what happened. What if they'd all gone and she alone had been spared? What if Lady Sansa would punish her? Take her for a Lannister whore? Brienne halted her horse. I need to send a raven to Winterfell, she thought. Lady Sansa needs to know what has happened before I arrive, not after. What had Jaime done? What had Cersei done? And how on earth had she gotten dragged into it all?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"When will it be safe to take a look?" Cersei's eyes sparkled. They had ran through the tunnels and were now seated in a small furbished chamber deep underneath the Citadel. Out of the range of the Substance. Her maester, Qyburn, replied: "I wouldn't go just yet, Your Grace, though the Mountain could make a visit. He won't be harmed by it." Cersei nodded a silent command to her guard and the Mountain slowly but surely left to oversee the chaos.

"Have some wine," she said to Qyburn, "bring me a glass as well. We should celebrate your success. It was a splendid idea. Wildfire enhanced and turned into gas. Even more effective and less destructive. To the structures themselves that is." The Dragon Pit should still be standing, though it already was in ruins.

"Indeed, Your Grace, I am quite pleased with the result myself."

"You are a true friend," Cersei said. She sat down at a rickety chair and gestured he'd do the same. "You help out with so many matters and your advice is always greatly valued."

"Thank you, Your Grace," he said, dipping his head, "I am glad to be of service."

She held her glass up high. "To the death of my enemies and the health of my new child."

"Hear, hear to that," Qyburn said. "It won't be long now, I think, Your Grace," he said, "Until the new addition to your family is born."

"I shall visit my brother soon," she said. "After that the child may come as it pleases. Then I will wed him, like the Targaryens used to do. We shall rule the seven kingdoms and have many more children besides." Cersei smiled at the thought. Jaime, she thought. My dear brother. He will see it was for the best. That is was all for us. For the family. For him and for me.

* * *

That evening her mood had considerably worsened. Several bodies had not been recovered. The Mountain had returned but because he could not speak, he had written the missing names on a piece of paper. Tyrion had not been recovered, nor Jon Snow, nor that damnable Targaryen blonde. Even Big Brienne had not been found, nor Varys. "Sansa did not even come," she hissed at the burning fire in her bedroom. "The Wolf Bitch. She should have been among them too." In the morning, I will look for myself, she thought. I need to see it with my very own eyes. The dragon's had been spotted too, Qyburn had found out. She had wished to punish him. Longed for it, but she knew it would be unwise. She needed him to help birth her child. She needed him to think of another plan, an new one for her last surviving enemies.

The Dragon Pit was covered in green sooth. Cersei wore a veil to keep from breathing it in. The wight – some undead creature, apparently – was amongst the dead as well. The Hound. The Mountain had been pleased with that at least. No Tyrion, no Daenerys, no Jon Snow. At Euron's body, she halted and laughed. "No fingers up my bum anymore, sailor boy," she said. "You did not expect this, did you now?" His fleet was now hers. She'd already found a decent captain for it. She would marry alright, but it would not be to some stinking Greyjoy. "He smelled like fish," she said to Qyburn. "I never much cared for it. Too leathery. Especially Kraken."

"You won't have to swallow his insolence anymore," her maester said. Cersei noticed a twinkle in his eyes that irked her. She did not miss the innuendo in his remark.

"Indeed," she said. "He was an insolent creature. He belongs in the water. Mountain, see to it that he gets there."

For weeks after, sailors that entered the harbor saw the rotting corpse of Euron bound in netting tied to one of the main docks slowly eaten away by the waves.

* * *

Jaime woke up startled because someone was violently shaking him. "Ser Jaime, the Queen has arrived. She is here."

Jaime jumped out of bed. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he said as he quickly gathered his things. Cersei hardly ever visited the troops. Why had she come? Had something gone wrong?

As he came out of his tent, he saw her standing beneath a pavilion. It would not be long until the child would arrive, Jaime thought. She shouldn't have come, not in her current situation.

"Do take a seat, Your Grace," he said. It was important to be formal on public displays such as this.

"There will be no need," Cersei replied. "I would like to speak to you in the privacy of your tent."

"Very well, Your Grace," Jaime said, and let her lead the way.

When they were alone, even the guards had been sent away, she did sit down. She looked drained Jaime found. Drained and exhausted. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"We didn't get them all," she hissed, suddenly angry. "Not that bitch that calls herself the Dragon Queen, not the bitch from the North. Not even the King in the North. Oh, and even worse, our little brother escaped as well."

"Tyrion?" Jaime said, "He wasn't recovered?"

"I looked for him myself. He was not there. The little monster. He even tried to attack me!"

Jaime swallowed hard. "He did?" he asked. "I'm sorry," he said.

"No, you're not," Cersie said. "You still have a soft spot for our ugly impish sibling. The Mountain tossed him aside, so I was unharmed. But somehow he escaped. Just like those vile dragons of hers."

"And what about…. Euron?" Jaime ventured. The wind caught hold of the tent's cloth and softly moved. It reminded Jaime of Euron's sails.

Cersei laughed. "Euron is very much recovered," she said. "He is currently feeding the fishes. Perhaps even the Krakens."

"Are you not…. You intended to marry him," Jaime said. His sister shook her head.

"I intended no such thing," she said. "There is only one person I wish to marry and he is right here in this very tent. I simply needed his fleet." Jaime smiled. He was unsure about her promises. She had often said such things before, in the heat of the moment.

He scraped his throat. "I would love to marry you," he said. "Marry you and squash our enemies."

"I knew you would," his Queen replied. "I knew I could count on you."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks for the follows and favorites!

* * *

Chapter 5

"Come here," she had whispered a little later, and he had helped her up. "Kiss me," she had said and Jaime had wrapped his arms around her, kissed her and nuzzled her neck. They stood so closely together that he could feel the child move. They'd have a child again. A son or daughter. As all his attention was focused on the soft skin of her neck, Cersei whispered in his ears. "Two more people were not found," she said. "Varys, the sneaky spider, and that large woman that held you captive."

"Brienne?" he asked. "She escaped too?" He raised his head but as he wanted to unclasp his hands, she held him close instead. "I have a feeling you knew that already," Cersei said. "That and Bronn is nowhere to be found. I thought you were meant to punish him?"

"I sent him to the Night's Watch," Jaime lied. "Surely that's punishment enough."

Cersei let go of him. She peered into his eyes trying to read his mind. "You did punish him?" she said. "I'm impressed." Jaime smirked. He hated it when she patronized him.

"I am capable of doing some things," he said, testily, "surely you are aware of that?"

"Putting children in my belly, for one," Cersei smiled. "You're good at that, for sure. Commanding our forces too. Yet lately you've also developed a taste for another skill. Something I am not pleased with." Her voice turned cold. "Betrayal," she clarified as he gave her a puzzled look. "Meeting with Tyrion behind my back. Letting Brienne go, perhaps even informing her of my plans..?"

"I did no such thing," Jaime assured her. "She wished to check on her horse; it had run into some trouble on the way South."

"Nonsense," Cersei immediately spotted the well-rehearsed lie. Perhaps it wasn't a good one.

"I can only be merciful to you if you tell me the truth," she said, as honey came back into her voice. Sweet soft sounds, like a purring cat.

"You've had a soft spot for her ever since she brought you back to King's Landing. Only the Seven know why… Why should you care for your captor? Surely you should be glad to be rid of her?"

"She did not deserve to die like that," Jaime admitted. "I lured her away with some lame excuse."

"And Varys?" she asked.

"He left of his own accord. He's always had a spidery sense for misfortune."

Cersei scowled at him. "Your ideas are stumbling blocks to my plans, brother mine," she said. "You can be harsh and cruel and then sometimes, all of a sudden, you get these stupid urges to act like some septon. To be honorable." She spat out the word. "Like Ned Stark."

"You'll take that back," Jaime said. "I am nothing like him."

"You weren't," she said. "That's what I liked about you."

"Cersei," he said, hating how his voice almost turned into a plea. "Let's not fight, please, not us."

"It's Your Grace," she said, icily. "I cannot trust you anymore, Jaime. From now on, it will only be Your Grace. You will do as you told, do as I bid you, and not turn against me again."

"I am not against you," he said. "I am at your side, always. Like I've always been."

Her eyes narrowed once more. "You're not," she said. "Not anymore."

With that she swept from his tent, leaving Jaime alone with his thoughts.

* * *

A few days later, two ravens arrived for Jaime. One was from Cersei demanding he'd come back to her immediately. Their child was on its way and wedding preparations were ongoing as well. "I still intend to wed you," it said. "Traitorous creature though you may be." The raven spoke of their dynasty, of how much she needed his loyalty, of how it had always been the two of them against the world.

The other was from Brienne. "I'm not yet at Winterfell but have heard stories along the way. Horrible ones. All those men killed in such a dreadful manner! Please tell me, it isn't true? The Hound, Tormund, even the King in the North, I heard. Some said one of the dragons too? If Lady Sansa holds me accountable for this in any way I will tell her about your role in all this. She will not have my head because of you!"

Jaime put both letters away and heading back to his home. Back to his sister, a new child and a wedding. Back with news for her. News that might warm her heart after all. Perhaps a dragon had been killed, perhaps the King in the North too! Cersei would like that. It might ensure her of his loyalty after all.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Daenerys had flown to Winterfell on Tyrion's instructions. The North was larger than some of the other kingdoms combined. It was a long journey and Drogon grew tired. Mayhaps it was not tired so much as that her child was grieving. Grieving because the others were lost. Grieving because he was now an only child. Just like me, Daenerys had thought. He is all alone in the world, just like me. For a brief glorious few days, she had had an ally. She had had hope. Jon Snow was going to bend his knee. He was going to join her and was even becoming her friend. She had begun to care for him and now she was carrying his body home. Home to the North. Yet another Northern King slain in the South.

Drogon landed at the field in front of Winterfell. They'd been spotted for miles. The gates of the castle opened for them, the bringers of doom. Arya Stark let out the most horrifying shriek and Lady Sansa's eyes had narrowed and her lips grown thin. "Carry him in," she said. "The maester should see to him." She had then gathered all of them in the great hall. "My brother gave you chance," she said to Daenerys. "To respect his wishes, I will do too. You will tell us what has happened."

Daenerys had heeded her call. When she had ended her tale, silence fell unto the great hall. Silence for the dead. All of them.

Afterwards she was escorted to her rooms. Daenerys had not the strength to urge them to bend the knee. It would have to wait. Until after their brother had been added to the crypt. Until after Lady Sansa had confirmed her story with her own loyal Brienne. She had not yet arrived. Lady Sansa had clearly and sternly stated that she was a guest here. Daenerys, however, had sensed she was not a welcome one. Jon's sister was not like him. Prouder, colder.

"I am the blood of the Dragon," she whispered as she climbed into the bed. "I win will them over. I will melt their hearts and they will see me for what I am. Their rightful ruler."

* * *

Cersei screamed loudly. She was a screamer. She didn't want him there, not this time. Jaime felt the sting of it keenly. She was still angry with him. He had been there throughout all the other births. Their three golden haired children. A horrible suspicion grew in his mind. What if the child was Euron's? What if it had dark hair, brown or black, and he would know that it wasn't his? Mayhaps that was why he wasn't allowed into the room. After yet another scream, Jaime tried again. Pleading with the Mountain wouldn't do him any good, but Qyburn had delivered his request to Cersei a few times already. He knocked at the door, hard. "Qyburn!" he shouted. "Qyburn, I want you out here."

"Not just right now, Lord Commander," he replied. "I am very much wanted here."

"I'm coming in!" he threatened. "I don't care what…" The Mountain glared at him and Jaime stepped away from the door.

"Very well, let him in," he heard his sister say. The Mountain still scowled but stepped away from the door. Jaime sighed. Finally.

"Cersei," he said, "is everything going well?"

Her eyes were dark. Jaime remembered. "Your Grace," he added. "What's…"

Qyburn smiled at him. "Very soon now, Ser Jaime," he said. "It won't be long."

Jaime smiled. "You're nearly there," he said, grabbing Cersei's hand. "You can do it, you have before." She nodded at him, too tired to talk.

Another few pushes and one or two loud screams and the child was born. It was a girl. Jaime could see the disappointment in Cersei's eyes as Qyburn handed the girl over to her. She had longed for another son. There will be more chances, he thought, many more. You are still young. He was careful not to voice these thoughts. Jaime himself was glad of a daughter. Less hassle than a son. His sons had not brought him much happiness before, though he had still cared for them. Even Joffrey, even him.

"What will you call her?" he asked. "Perhaps we should name her after mother?"

"You should nothing," she said coolly. "We'll call her after my protectors. Genoveva Qadira. It means powerful leader, and I'm sure she will be."

"Your protectors…." Jaime said. Cersei smirked at him.

"Yes, Qyburn and Ser Gregor. Of their loyalty, I am assured," she said. Jaime let it slide.

"I have news of my own," he said. "There are rumors floating about that the King in the North has been slain and one of the dragons too."

"Really?" his sister perked up. "That is good news. Thank you, Jaime."

"Perhaps your brother would like to hold her as well," Qyburn carefully suggested. "So you might get some rest."

Cersei nodded. "Very well," she said. "Genoveva should meet her father too."

As Jaime held his little girl, tears sprung into his eyes. The few hairs on her head were as blond as blond could be. He sighed a sigh of relief. "Hello Genoveva," he said. "I'm your father. Very nice to meet you." He could have sworn she smiled at him.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Jaime asserts his power, so content warning for that.

Chapter 7

"Jaime?" Cersei called him. "I need you to look at patterns. We should look our best on our wedding day." It was really happening, he thought. Something he had longed for, for years on end, was coming to pass at last. "I'm coming," he shouted back at her. She still hadn't forgiven him. Naming their daughter after people who were loyal. Still insisting he'd call her Your Grace, even in private.

She stood near a table, with many cloths laid out on it. Whites, numerous kinds of whites. Some pale blue too. Jaime liked those better. A bit of crimson here and there and gold. Pale gold, deep gold. Heavy cloth, shiny cloth, cloth so thin you could see right through it. "For a veil mayhaps," Cersei said as she showed him the latter.

Jaime was silent and let her decide. It didn't take her long to notice. "What is it?" she said after a while. "You're not here, Jaime; I don't know where you are, but you're not here."

He couldn't keep the question that was burning on his lips in any longer. "Do you still want to marry me?" he asked. "Are you sure?"

His twin sister scowled at him. "I could ask you the same," she said. "You've been distant lately."

" _I_ have been distant?"

"Sulking," she grumbled. "You have been sulking."

Jaime felt his anger rise in his chest. "You treat me like a…. a foot soldier. Like a servant. Like I am a meaningless nobody."

Her eyes were unyielding. "Perhaps you deserved it," she said. "Such treatment. Maybe you are right, maybe I should not marry you. The fact that I am should be enough for you."

Jaime swallowed hard. He firmly told himself not to cry. He could not weep like a little girl. Cersei despised weakness. Especially in a man. "Very well, Your Grace," he said, with a small stiff bow. "We shall wed."

"Yes, we shall," she said, "And you'll be glad about it."

"Of course," Jaime replied, "Anything for my dear sister." He was hardly able to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"We shall wear the colors of our house, with a splash of white for tradition. Gold and crimson. Velvet, I think, and lace."

Jaime let her twirl around with the fabric, matching colors to their skin. This should be a happy day, he thought. It should be delightful to be here with her and pick colors for our wedding day. But it was not. It was agonizing, and heartbreaking and damn infuriating too.

"If you are to be my wife," he said, steel in his timbre, "you should be pleasing to me. You should want to please me."

"I want to be pleasing to you," she said, pretending to be coy, "always."

"Well, you're not," he said. "I want your hair to be long, not short. Like a waterfall of gold. I want your fabric to be soft and flowy, not stiff and stern like your attire of late."

"It's the wardrobe of a Queen," Cersei stated.

"If you are to be a bride, you should be pleasing to the groom," he replied. "That's the custom."

"You're not in a position to make demands," his sister said. "You've lost that prerogative."

"I think I am in that position," Jaime replied. "I beg to differ, Cersei."

"I thought we'd decided…." she began, but he cut her short.

"Not we," he said, "You. You decided I should no longer use your name, which is absurd."

"Listen, brother dear," she said, and Jaime stopped her again. This time not with words. He pushed her against the table with the fabric and held her there. His gold and steel hand pushed ruthlessly against her left arm whereas his other hand held her right arm in a firm grip. He kissed her, long and hard. "You listen," he breathed in her ear. "I won't stand for this any longer. You treat me with respect or the wedding is off. Do you hear?"

When she did not immediately reply, he shook her. "Did you hear me, Cersei?"

"I heard you," she said. "Loud and clear."

"Good," Jaime said. "That's settled then. I'll wear the crimson velvet and the white with embroidered lions. You the gold lace, the red and black lace and white underneath."

She nodded.

"And you'll let your hair grow longer, and will wear flowers in it."

"And a crown," Cersei said, with a bite to her tone.

"A crown does not fit with a veil," Jaime replied.

"It does fit," she said, "It does and I will wear it."

"Fine," he grumbled. "You are the Queen."

"Indeed," he sister said. "Kindly let me go now." Jaime released his grip.

"Does it make you feel powerful?" she said, as he walked away, "Brute force? A pity you've only got the one hand." Jaime felt as if he was hit straight across the face. He wanted to strike out at her but kept his temper under control.

"It's my forte," he said. "Take it or leave it, I'd say," and with that he did leave her to her wedding preparations.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It was Tyrion who noticed Brienne's arrival. A raven had appeared a few days before, on the day of Jon's funeral. Her story said the same as theirs and Lady Sansa had shown some signs of relief about that. She had changed a lot, Tyrion thought, she trusted no one. Not even her younger sister it seemed, yet the vile Lord Baelish was still one of her advisors. Tyrion would have warned her but no longer felt himself in such a position. They were guests but clearly Sansa only accepted them with great reluctance. The other Starks – Bran and Arya – Tyrion understood even less. They had been children when he had last seen them. They were children no more.

He prodded one of the guards to wake Lady Sansa. He hadn't been able to sleep himself. He kept seeing the green substance in his dreams. He had survived. He still didn't know how he could have. Everyone else had died. Daenerys thought it was because he was further away than the others. Or that perhaps his breathing had been different, the air knocked out of his longs by his fall. Tyrion felt strangely guilty. He had talked them into going and he deserved to have gone to the afterlife with them. His Queen was very glad that he had not.

"I don't have to listen to you, Imp!" the guard snarled. "You're not my Lord."

"Look," he pointed, "over there. I think it's Lady Brienne?" He stood on a spared out part of stone, build ever few meters to strengthen the structure. It gave him just enough height.

"Lady Sansa will want to speak to her at once." The guard peered out over the wall.

"I believe the Imp is right," he shouted at one of his fellows. "Open the gate, and waken our Lady."

* * *

It was the night before their wedding. Cersei had been more quiet lately. Jaime rather enjoyed it. Better than her constant insults and her insistence that he was a traitor. She had let her hair grow too and the hint of curls was there again. Between that and his little newborn daughter, Jaime was rather content. She was with Qyburn at the moment, as he had their daughter on his lap. "She is growing well, Ser Jaime," the nurse maid told him. "She drinks like a …." She blushed.

"A sailor? Or a drunk?" Jaime laughed. She smiled shyly at him. "Very good," he said. "She will grow strong, like her mother. Strong and fierce."

When Cersei entered the room, he gave Genoveva back to the nurse maid.

"You will leave us now," she said and they were alone.

"Big day ahead tomorrow," he said, when she remained silent. They sat on opposite ends of the room. Cersei near the fire, Jaime near a window. Cersei nodded. "I'm reminded of the past," he said, "I've been thinking about us lately."

"About us?" she said, a touch of suspicion in her voice.

Jaime smiled at her. "When you first came to me, when we were, well, children still. You remember what you said?"

Cersei smiled. She looked tired. "Let me see," she whispered. "I said: What does it look like?"

"I didn't immediately know what you meant," he grinned, turning his head sideways. "I had no idea."

Cersei laughed too. "You learnt soon enough," she said, smiling. "It was wonderful."

"It was," he said, as his mouth grew a little thinner. "Your finger traced me and I…"

"You responded," she said. "As I knew you would."

"How did you know?" he asked. "You knew more than me."

"I'd been spying on one of the kitchen maids," Cersei said, with sparkling eyes. "The big breasted one with the harsh laugh."

Jaime remembered. "She had numerous lovers, I believe," he recalled. "They all wanted to suck her teats."

"I'd follow her around," Cersei said, "to see what she was doing. It was a game that I longed to play too."

"And I was willing," he said. "Very much so."

"Are you still?" Cersei asked him. "Willing?

"Very much so," Jaime said and he meant it. He wanted to believe they belonged together so badly it ached. "Are you?"

"I'm not the one with doubts," she said, her mouth sour. "I've always stood behind this family."

Jaime stood up and walked towards her. Even on an ordinary chair she sat like it was a throne, he thought. He stood behind her, his gilded hand resting on her shoulder, whereas his other played with the budding curls in her neck. "I want you to trust me," he said, with a chocked voice. "Perhaps I do sometimes care about the fate of others, but it's you that I love. It has always been you. There has never been anyone else." He could see her smile. She laid her hand on his gilded one.

"I understand," she said. "There's a softness in you that I don't always agree with. It makes you vulnerable. It makes us vulnerable." Jaime understood her fears.

"Forgive me," he whispered as his finger stroke her neck. "I want us to be strong too." Cersei moaned ever so softly. "Let's seal our love again by making more Lannister Lions, right here, right now. It will be a lucky child to be conceived on such a night."

"Let's," she whispered back. Jaime grabbed her breast and squeezed. "In honor of the kitchen maid," he said with a grin. "The one who brought us together." Cersei laughed. It was a throaty laugh and for the first time in a long time, it sounded truly cheerful.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Another slight change to canon: the Unsullied were not present at the Dragon Pit. Some of the Dothraki were and died there.

Chapter 9

The wedding had been glorious. They had said their vows and Jaime had cloaked her. Placed Cersei under his protection. The moment had brought tears to his eyes. They were joined together for all the world to see. Finally his love for her was acknowledged. Truly acknowledged.

"You are radiant," he said, when they were alone in her bedroom – their bedroom, he corrected himself - once again besotted with her. "The most beautiful woman in the world." The Lannister colors had never looked so fine on her. The lace so fragile and the white so pure.

"And you looked like a knight," she said. "My knight. Valiant and true." Jaime smiled at her. "I am your knight," he said, as he embraced her and lifted her up. "I am your knight and you are my Queen."

"I am you Queen," she said, "and I command you to put me down." Cersei giggled like a young girl.

"I shall," he said, and put her gently back on her feet. "As you command, Your Grace." He dipped his head at her.

"I command you to take me," she said, her eyes providing him with a challenge. "Long and hard, all night long."

"Don't mind if I do," Jaime replied. "Don't mind if I do." A large grin appeared on his face.

He kissed her neck and tugged at her skirts. Soon he entered her for the first time that night and she screamed as she came. Just like old times, Jaime thought. My Lioness.

* * *

"The threat to the North and the threat to the South," Daenerys said, "which one to focus on?" She and Tyrion were alone in her chambers. "I need Missandei here. I'll fly out for her tomorrow and return as soon as I can. The Unsullied will be here soon enough too." They had marched on the capital but had been sent word to come North after the disaster at the Dragon Pit. The Dothraki that remained were with them too. "I'll need you here, Tyrion, to convince these …." She searched for words. "These stubborn coldblooded people to pledge for me. To me. To bend the knee."

"I'll do my best," he said. "I promise."

She nodded at him. "I know you will. You know how important it is for us all to band together. To fight a common cause."

"They know it too," he said. "They just need to become aware of it."

"Whatever you need to do," she said. "Hopefully on my return, they'll be more open to my rule."

Tyrion bowed. "As you command," he said. "I'll try my utmost."

* * *

As Tyrion watched his Queen take to the air, from his spot on the wall, his former wife stood beside him. "She's leaving you behind," she said. "A lone lion amongst wolves."

"Is that a threat?" Tyrion asked. "I expected better from you, Sansa." They both watched Drogon flap his gigantic wings and fly away. Up into the clouds.

"Merely an observation," she said and begrudgingly she continued: "You aren't the worst of the Lannisters, for sure."

"High praise indeed," he quipped.

Sansa glared at him. "You betrayed your family," she said. "For her."

"Not precisely," he said. "I left my family because they wanted me dead. I didn't find her until later."

"Still, you turned against them. You must believe in her. Her claim or her… strengths."

"I do," he simply said. "So did Jon. Or he was beginning to at least."

"Jon is not me," she said sharply. "He was too trusting. I'm not."

"Whom do you trust, my Lady?" he asked. She laughed bitterly at him, her eyes dark.

"No one," she replied. "Not even myself." She swept away before he could reply.

Tyrion watched her go. As cold as her general demeanor was he could still sense the pain and anger radiate off of her. "You can trust me," he softly whispered into the wind.

* * *

It was the second day that Daenerys had gone. Tyrion expected her back before long. He'd just heard some news that morning. Not only had his siblings married one another, Cersei had also had born Jaime's child for a fourth time. If it was Jaime's, he reflected cynically.

"It would appear I'm an uncle again," Tyrion said to no one in particular when they were breaking the fast. The news had travelled all the way to Winterfell. "Cersei has given birth to a girl, apparently. Her name means something like great warrior." Sansa snorted with laugher at that.

"It would, wouldn't it?" she said. "Can't accuse Cersei of being very subtle in matters like these."

"Not anymore, no," Tyrion replied. "Once upon a time perhaps, but not anymore."

Sansa smiled at him. Tyrion felt his heart stir a little, and not just his heart either. She was still as lovely as ever, he thought.

No longer a little dove, very much a wolf these days. Ruthless and cold, all winter but perhaps the softness of snow was buried within still. He very much liked to think so. If only she'd see beneath his exterior too.

"I learnt a lot from her," Sansa said. "Your sister."

"Can't have been anything good," he said. Sansa shrugged as she picked at her egg.

"I'm not sure," she said. "She's determined. Knows her mind. Not bad characteristics for a Queen to have."

"Daenerys possesses the same qualities," he said, suddenly realizing what she was playing at. "She has the cunning but also a heart. Unlike my dear sister."

Sansa did not seem convinced. "From what I've heard she enjoys roasting people with that dragon of hers," she said. "Sounds ruthless to me. Besides, I possess those qualities myself."

"Killing one's enemies is sometimes cruel," he said. "As you should well know."

"If you're referring to Ramsey," Sansa said with an icy voice, "I'd strongly advise you not to bring him up again. It was entirely different. The Tarly's were mere bannermen. It was not personal at all."

"No, but it was war," Tyrion defended his Queen. "They would not bend the knee. Had she done nothing, she would have seemed weak."

"Weak?" she scorned. "She'd laid waste to most of the men present. Not weak, but generous. With that heart you claim she possesses."

"Sansa," he almost pleaded. "She does deserve your loyalty, your support. If you get to know her better you will see why." Sansa looked at her own advisor instead. Petyr Baelish smiled and whispered into her ears.

Sansa smirked and looked straight at him. "And what if I do not?" she said testily. "Will she burn me alive too?"

"Not if I can help it," he muttered, but it didn't sound too persuasive.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Daenerys had been back a few days. She was pacing her chambers and ranting at Tyrion. The Starks had been isolating themselves more and more. "You honestly think this is a good sign?" she asked Tyrion for the umpteenth time. "For all we know, they are plotting a way to kill me or Drogon, or all of us. Poison in our food, you name it."

Tyrion smiled. She was volatile and very impatient, this new Queen of his. "They are Northerners. They are proud. Give them a bit of time, a period to accept the new situation. Let them be for a while. Let them come to their own decision."

She sighed. "Perhaps we shouldn't have come here," she said.

"We needed to take him home," Tyrion replied. "We had to come."

A knock on her door made them both jump up. "Your presence is required in the Great Hall," a guard of Winterfell told them. "They are all waiting for you."

Daenerys replied she would be there in a moment. She looked apprehensively at Tyrion. "I guess we will find out," she told him, "foe or ally." Tyrion nodded. He was not entirely at ease about the outcome.

* * *

She sat by the fire in the common room. Her red hair as bright as the flames. Kissed by fire, the wildlings said. It was late, the castle was asleep. Tyrion coughed to let her know he was here.

"I know I probably shouldn't say anything…" Tyrion said as he softly approached her.

"No, you shouldn't," Sansa agreed.

"But you did the right thing… Truly."

Sansa shook her head. "It doesn't make it better, Tyrion. It doesn't help saying that."

"Jon," he began but she scowled at him.

"I don't care about Targaryens," she said. "I don't care about her, nor her claim. I don't care who sits on the Iron Throne. I do care about bending the knee." There was a tremor near her jaw.

"Yet you did bend the knee," Tyrion said.

"I did," she said, teeth gritting. "For one reason only. Survival. We can't fight a war on three fronts. Not with the North and the South and a Dragon Queen. Something had to give."

"I'm proud of you," he said. "It makes you a good leader."

"Warden of the North," she said bitterly. "Instead of Queen."

"Maybe when the wars are over you can change her mind," Tyrion said. "She might be open to it then. You might be friends by then instead of reluctant allies."

"I haven't had a friend in years," Sansa laughed bitterly. "I doubt it."

"I wish there was something I could say," Tyrion said. Her eyes grabbed his for a moment.

"Why?" she said. "It's not your duty to humor me or lighten my mood."

Tyrion smiled sadly. "No, it's not," he agreed. "But I do want to."

"Why?" she said again. "You don't support our independence. You support her claim out of faith, true belief, not out of need. Not like us. Why should you care how I feel?"

He didn't immediately reply. Instead he went to sit in another chair, pulling it up close to the fire.

"I respect you," he finally said. "I have for a long time."

Sansa's eyes narrowed. She knows, he thought, she's realizing it right now.

She shook her head at him as her eyes grew wider. "You should not, Tyrion," she warned him. "Please don't."

"I'm not to respect you?" he said with a hoarse voice. "That's an odd request." He didn't meet her eyes.

She continued shaking her head, as she spat: "You know what I mean. I did not ask for this. I have given you no indication whatsoever…. Why? Why do you have to make things even worse?!"

"I know I cannot hope for you to love me," he said, with a small voice, as he kept his eyes locked unto the fire, "yet hope does keep men alive."

"Women too," Sansa said, a little prickly. "I do not wish to hurt you, Tyrion, but I do not intend to marry again any time soon. Perhaps not ever." Her voice had taken on an undertone of steel.

He slid out of his chair, poured her some wine, himself too, and forced himself to smile at her. To smile and sound cheerful, like none of it mattered at all.

"I wasn't speaking about marriage," he said making light of it, grinning. "A mere kiss would do."

She frowned at him. "I don't believe you," she said. "It wouldn't."

He smirked. "You're probably right. A mere kiss is like you only get the soup of a five course meal."

Sansa smirked. "My point exactly," she said, a hint of warning still lingering. "It wouldn't be enough."

"I recall there was a brothel here, from my last visit," he said. "I might visit it again."

She nodded. "Perhaps that would be wisest," Sansa said.

Tyrion smiled a crooked smile. "I think it would be," he replied. He drank the rest of his cup in one swallow and bowed to bid her goodnight. He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing his tears.

* * *

That night he could not sleep at all. I should have kept that big mouth of mine shut, he thought. But ever since he had been here, since he'd seen her again something had changed within him. He'd never seen Sansa truly as an option. Not before when there was still with Shae. He liked the idea of being Lord of Winterfell, but she was just a child. A silly child, and a sullen one too. He had tried to protect her, to make her smile. He had not truly felt like a husband. And Sansa had been clear enough about not wanting him to be her husband either.

Tears trickled down his face. Shae's betrayal had stung deep, Tysha's too, but so had Sansa's rejection. Back then, but now even more. Much more. She does not see me, he thought. She sees my body and she hears my snarky remarks. She does not see a person, only a caricature. Sansa isn't worthy of my love. Would anyone ever be? Would someone see him, truly see him? He gritted his teeth. Think about it no more, he told himself. Forget about her. Remember what you're here for. Serve your Queen. Win the war.

"Are you quite well?" his Queen asked him the following morning. "You do seem somewhat tired."

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you," he said.

Sansa met them outside the armory. "Your Grace," she said, with a curtsy. She still wears her courtesies like armor, Tyrion thought. "Lady Sansa," he greeted her.

"Shall I show you around?" she said. "I thought you might like to hear about our supplies, our manpower, now that we are to be allies."


End file.
